


Chase

by Sideshow_Harlequin



Series: Delirium [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Cauterization, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sideshow_Harlequin/pseuds/Sideshow_Harlequin
Summary: This takes place after Lament and after everything has gone to shit basically. It will make a whole lot more sense the more parts I post, I promise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Lament and after everything has gone to shit basically. It will make a whole lot more sense the more parts I post, I promise.

Blood runs down David's legs and pools around his feet. One hand is splayed against a wall to support himself, the other clasping the jagged wound on his lower abdomen. He gasps weakly trying to catch his breath. He had just ran for what felt like eternity to save his own life. For all he knew, his pursuer could still be hot on his tail. There was no way at this point that David would be able to escape. After so much blood loss and exertion, he could hardly move.

David could no longer stand even. He falls to the floor and into the gory puddle he created. It's still warm, seeping through his clothes and caking his skin. This was it. He was going to die. Oddly, the thought comforted him. Every day was hell in this world. Separating from Jack had only made it worse. He didn't regret that though. His godfather was the very reason this gruesome place existed to begin with. It made David sick just thinking about how blind he had been. If he had known what Jack was capable of, perhaps he could have prevented all this.

And then again, maybe not. Jack seemed incredibly determined to do whatever it was he was trying to do. Surely if David had interfered with his plans, Jack would have killed him. He was honestly surprised he made it this far when he clearly was in opposition with the man. Did he hold back because David was family? That couldn't be it. After all, he had no problem murdering his wife. Why was he alive then? What purpose could his life possibly serve for Jack?

Dwelling on this now was utterly pointless he realizes. Soon, he will be dead and nothing will matter. Sofia and the others could hopefully find a way out of this nightmare. As unlikely as survival for them was, he held onto the idea that they would nonetheless. At the very least, he hoped they wouldn't be as reckless as he had been. Really, he was such an idiot for approaching that thing earlier. Looking back, his fatal injury was entirely avoidable.

It was his curiosity that screwed him over. He was searching for food at the time when he heard two people arguing. Or so he had thought. The closer he got to the origin of the voices, the more he felt something wasn't quite right. And yet despite his wariness, David had to investigate. He was stubborn that way. When he was near enough, the speaking began to sound familiar. There was a posh, crisp cadence to it, definitely belonging to the Daggert twins.

This was where any sane person would turn back. But David ignored common sense and continued on until he reached a safe spot to eavesdrop from. He crouched low behind a pile of debris, listening to the pair bicker. Unfortunately, it was too unintelligible to make out what they were saying. All he could discern was that one sounded enthusiastic, while the other was irate. Peering around the detritus, David sees either Victor or Irving huddled in a corner, hands covering their face.

That was what did it for him. A warning like a blaring siren fired off in his head and he started to panic. He frantically scanned the area for the second twin, but came up empty. If he couldn't see both of them, there was a chance the other brother would notice him first and not take kindly to being spied on.

David forced himself to calm down, pretending he couldn't feel the frantic drumming of his heartbeat, and considered his options. Waiting it out could work, but only if they left through the fire exit next to them. There was a possibility they would choose to leave the room from David's side instead, in which case he would be seen for sure. However, this accounted solely for the single Daggert he could see in the room, without regard to the twin he couldn't see. There was no helping that. All he could do was pray that the brothers would go together.

Before David could decide on the best course of action though, the decision was taken from him. He had shifted slightly in discomfort from squatting for so long when his knee bumped into the mass of rubble that was his hide out. A small chunk of brick tumbled off the side and landed with a loud thud on the floor. David held his breath in fear and watched as the hunched over doppelganger jerked their head up to stare straight at him.

He stared back and flinched at what he saw. Whether it was Irving or Victor, he couldn't tell. What he could ascertain was that something horribly wrong had happened to them. A giant suture weaved a twisted path down the middle of their face, lips curved into a smile on the left and a grimace on the right. Fresh bruises were littered across the grinning half while the scowling side was free of any blemishes. Normally well groomed, their hair was now disheveled and clothes dirty and torn. 

It took all of three seconds for David to take that in and recognize the severity of the situation he was in.

Two more for him to stand up and bolt from the room.

And another two to hear the revving up of a buzzsaw.

That was when time sped up to a tense blur.

David wildly sprinted through a maze of several hallways and doors. His sides began to ache from the strain, but he didn't dare slow his pace. Each step he took was accompanied by many more trailing after him. The racket of a power tool carving up anything in its way made him hurry along quicker. 

He glimpsed back at his stalker. Like a rabid animal, drool dripped from the aberration's mouth as it continued to chase him. David whipped his head back around and refocused his efforts to evade the demented twin. Except he hadn't been paying much attention to where he was going, nearly colliding into a wall. He quickly skidded to a halt.

It was a dead end.

“ _Well, well... what have we here?_ ”

David jumped a little at the words, not expecting the thing to talk to him. He hesitantly turned so he could face the maniac. It cruelly smirked when he met their eyes.

“ _Ah, I thought it was you_ ”. Watching it speak was like seeing an amateur ventriloquist perform, making it all the more disturbing. “ **Jack's favorite**... _hmm, must be nice_ ”.

They stepped closer until David's back hit the wall behind him.

“ _I mean, it IS his fault we exist_... **stuck here forever** ”, it dragged a finger along David's chest and stopped at where his heart would be, “ **But you** , _you're special_. **You aren't fucked like the rest of us**. _You mean something to him_ ”.

“I don't know if you noticed, but Jack isn't with me. _**I left him**_ ”, David seethed, shoving the thing's hand off him, “So, if you're gonna kill me-”  
He doesn't get a chance to finish his retort. Raw pain spread throughout his midsection, wholly interrupting what he was going to say. David blinked then glanced down at the dark crimson stain blooming on his white shirt. Gawking, he clutched his waist in disbelief. He has to narrowly dodge another strike from the buzzsaw before pushing his assailant away and breaking into a mad dash.

A mix of shock and terror numbed any agony David might have felt from the deep laceration. He would have been grateful for this if he were conscious of anything other than remaining alive. The awareness he did experience was fleeting as his mind drifted in and out of reality; he desperately tried to survive one moment, then relived playing hide-and-seek with Jack when he was little in the next.

Eventually he stumbled upon an open ventilation shaft and wedged himself inside. David waited a beat for the twin(s) to run by, but they never did. Maybe they lost him. Even so, he wasn't about to stay there and find out.

He crawled out the other side of the vent then immediately winced. The industrial-sized kitchen was much brighter than the dim corridors he had grown accustomed to, causing him to squint in order to see.

This is when he became cognizant of all the blood virtually spilling from his body. 

And this is where he was now, ironically dying in a place containing what he sought to begin with.

Hunger was nothing compared to the current torture he suffered. It truly was a blessing to have not felt it earlier as it was the worst trauma he has ever endured. David accepts his fate, figuring he shouldn't linger over the past anymore. 

What's done is done.

A distraction is needed, so he settles for counting the rotted tiles on the ceiling. He makes it up to thirteen when the creaking of a door cuts his tally short. David curses his lack of precaution. Of course in his present state it made sense that he'd neglect to check the room for other entrances. But if he was going to die, he wanted to do so alone on his own terms, damn it.

He grits his teeth in anticipation and keeps an eye on the quivering door knob ten feet from him. It appeared that whoever was trying to get inside was having trouble opening the door. Which is strange, David thinks, since the thing hunting him could simply hack their way through.

There is a sudden bang and the wood encircling the handle of the door splinters. The explosive noise startles David so much he involuntarily bites his tongue.

“ _Fuck_ ”, he hisses quietly, the swear befitting the affliction as well as the circumstance. 

His sore tongue is all but forgotten when the destroyed entryway swings open, revealing the last person he wants to see:

Jack.

_Fuck_ , David mentally reiterates, _not him. Anyone but him_.

“David?”

He refuses to acknowledge him by closing his eyes and not responding. An intense desire to disappear consumes him.

“Holy shit, Davie. What the bloody hell happened to ya?”, Jack asks with blatant worry. He holsters his gun before approaching him and stooping down to access the damage. His customary smile is replaced with a frown when he finds the source of the bleeding.

“Leave me alone”, David croaks. He can feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment. This reminded him far too much of how Jack would react when he hurt himself as a kid. He wasn't a child anymore and he didn't need Jack's concern nor help.

“No can do, precious”, he pokes at David's gash which earns him a whimper followed by a pitiful attempt to push him away. Jack laughs, amused by the resistance. “If you keep struggling like that, you'll only bleed out faster...and we don't want that, now do we?”

“I don't care”.

Jack rolls his eyes. David could be so difficult sometimes. “Look, you ain't dying on my watch, so if you're gonna make this hard for me, I'll have to knock ya out”. 

David glares at Jack. He didn't like the idea of being unconscious and at the mercy of his godfather. There really wasn't much of a choice. “Fine”, he relaxes, letting his body go limp, “I'll behave myself”.

The sarcastic quip makes Jack chuckle. He loved it when David got smart with him. “That's a good boy”, he praises, knowing it will do nothing but irk David. Jack is rewarded with a dirty look from the sulky teenager. He beams from ear to ear in return. “Okay then, let's have a look-see”. 

Suddenly, there are fingers in David's lesion, digging around inside him. The unexpected sensation of being scissored open is nauseating. Bile rises in his throat, but he holds it back. “What are you-”, David gasps and swallows, “doing?”

“I've gotta see how bad it is, don't I?”, Jack replies, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. The man could feign not being a sadist all he wants, but there was no denying he derives some sick pleasure from hurting David. And, if he was completely honest, David believes he deserves it. This is why he doesn't bother to protest any further. “Ah, fuck. It's worse than I thought”.

The abrupt removal of Jack's fingers leaves David feeling empty. A small part of him misses their presence and he hates himself for how fucked up that is. “H-how bad is it?”

“Well...”, Jack runs a blood soaked hand through his hair, collecting his thoughts, “to put it bluntly, stitches won't do shit”.

“Oh”. So that was it then. David was done for. He isn't an expert on emergency medical treatment, but he knows there isn't much else they could do unless they went to a hospital. Finding one in this place was certainly possible, although without a doctor it was useless. “Why not?”

To illustrate a point, Jack picks up a glass from one of the counters and hurls it at the floor. The cup shatters on impact.“Imagine trying to fix this with cheap glue”, he gathers up a handful of shards, sifting the fragments between his fingers, “Sure, you could piece it back together, but-”

“For fuck's sake, Jack, I don't need a clever analogy”, David interjects. The excessive and overtly impulsive demonstration had irritated him. He could not fathom why Jack was choosing to be showy at a time like this. “Give it to me straight”.

“Aww, you're no fun...”, Jack pouts. He lets the broken glass fall from his palm. There are pinpricks of blood where the sharp bits pierced his skin. “Alright, princess, I'll humor you”. His expression becomes serious. “Stitching you up would take too long and by then you'd be dead. Luckily, I know of another way to stop the bleeding”.

“And that is?”

“I'm not gonna lie, Davie. You won't like it”.

“ _ **Jack-**_ ”

“I have to cauterize the wound”.

David frowns in confusion. “Ca-tuh-what-now?” 

“Really?”, Jack quirks a brow, “With all those books you read, I'm surprised you don't know that word. I'm a little disappointed, actually...”

“Do I look like a fucking dictionary to you, Jack?!”, David fumes. His patience for the older man is wearing dangerously thin.

“Whoa, take it easy, tiger! I was only messin' with ya”, Jack can't help but crack a smile and snicker a little at David's expense. “Anyway, all you need to know is that it'll hurt like hell”.

David sighs. Their conversation will drag on forever if he keeps asking questions. Jack would continue to make a game of it by beating around the bush until David bled to death. He has to put an end to this. “Whatever, just do it already”.

“Aye aye, captain!”, Jack mock salutes. He swiftly pivots around on his heel to face the many cabinets and drawers and begins rummaging through them at random. Muttering to himself as he roots, the clattering of bottles can soon be heard and Jack pulls out one containing a clear alcohol. “You're gonna need this”, he smirks, tapping the bottle with his index finger. Jack makes to throw it at David to catch before thinking better of it and handing it to him instead.

“Why?”, David asks, examining the bottle in his left hand, while his right continues to try and stem the flow of the blood from his injury. He was a little stunned that Jack hadn't made him a makeshift tourniquet or something, but he knew enough to know he needed to put pressure on it. Now realizing he should have been more specific with his question, lest Jack ramble on again, David amends his prior inquiry. “Nevermind, just- do I drink it or what?”

“Geez, you're joking, right? Duh, you drink it, silly. If you wanna dull the pain, that is”, Jack returns to his search, his back to David, “Of course, we'll need some for disinfectant as well, so don't drink the whole thing, kiddo”.

David's stomach clenches and that queasy feeling from earlier comes back. Jack knows all too well that David hates the taste of alcohol, yet here he is offering that as the only option. He supposes the place didn't have a first aid kit though and any pain reliever pills won't be as fast acting. His reflection in the bottle stares back at him with disgust as he shakily uncorks it and downs a hefty portion of the liquor in haste.

Instantly coughing and sputtering, David tries not to gag at the foul flavor, giving himself a second to breath before drinking some more. He puts the alcohol down and wipes the remnants from his mouth. Jack stares at him with wide eyes. “What?”, David snaps, although it comes out more like a muted slur. His head starts to swim and the room around him is spinning topsy-turvy.

“Fuck, Davie, you didn't need to drink that much!”, Jack laughs uncontrollably, the situation too funny for him to contain it. Even with everything whirling about in a dizzying way, David could still tell that Jack was currently holding a rather large knife; a glowing red-hot one at that.

“Jack, what-”, he can't speak any further, a fresh wave of nausea hitting him. He closes his eyes tight and wills it to pass. Vomiting now would only make this predicament worse. When he opens them, David finds Jack kneeling at his side with the sharp blade.

“Don't get the wrong idea, sweetheart. I ain't gonna stab ya”, Jack cackles a bit at the thought then remembers he forgot something, “Ah, crap. Hold this, will you?”. He gives the knife to David whom attempts to hold it upright until his arm weakly falls to the floor. Jack notices and promptly fixes the position of the knife so it won't burn David, tutting as he does so in mock annoyance. He then retrieves a handkerchief from his vest and douses it with liquor. The smell of it makes David wrinkle his nose and back away in revulsion. “Come on, I told you we'd use this as disinfectant, didn't I? Stop being a baby”. Jack grabs him by his shirt and pulls him forward, gently removing David's own hand from his wound. The hand comes away sticky and wet with blood.

David braces himself, clutching Jack's shoulders and gritting his teeth. “Do it”, he murmurs, head bowed down. Complying to the request, Jack wipes the wound thoroughly with the damp cloth, causing David to groan and tighten his grip on the older man.

“There we go, that wasn't so bad, was it?”, Jack smiles and ruffles David's hair affectionately, “Now for the best- er, I mean the worst part. Ya ready, kid?” David reluctantly nods. Jack reclaims the knife from David's grasp. “Oh yeah, ya might wanna bite down on this”, he says, giving David a few seconds to do so with the wooden spoon he hands him. Then, without any real warning, he lowers the heated kitchen utensil and presses it flush against David's injury.

The pain is instantaneous and excruciating. Nothing he experienced beforehand could even come close to what he feels now. It was like someone was gutting him with a burning torch, his skin sizzling from the heat. He spits the wooden spoon out and cries, burying his face in Jack's chest. When the knife is taken away and Jack whispers soothingly, he isn't even aware of it, the world going dark as he blacks out.


End file.
